


Dirt and Tentacles

by wildestranger



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-13
Updated: 2009-11-13
Packaged: 2017-10-02 14:46:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildestranger/pseuds/wildestranger





	Dirt and Tentacles

Draco finds Neville surrounded by yellow and green. There are daisies creeping over his bare toes, and a droopy dandelion curving over one ear - Neville looks deliriously happy, is shining with it, and Draco feels the usual conflicting urges to smile happily back and to scowl. Naturally, scowling wins.

Because this happens every bloody year.

"Isn't it a bit early for this? Shouldn't you wait another month, or something? Maybe two?"

Neville doesn't seem the least bit bothered by Draco's petulant tone. Draco takes to grinding his teeth.

"It's April, Draco. Early enough to be planting."

"There might still be frost! Or those ferocious rabbits from next door might eat them! Surely you should wait."

He'd stomp his foot but it's hard to make the right stomping noises when you're standing on soft ground.

And Neville is laughing at him.

"It's 23 degrees, I seriously doubt it will go below zero anymore. And I'm sure the Small Animal Charm you did still works fine."

"It might not. I wasn't paying that much attention."

"Draco."

"Fine. I'll just leave you to your flowery friends and their slutty ways."

Draco is about to stomp (or waddle, as the case might be, since the ground around here is always full of soft fertile dirt) back to the house and console himself with the year's first lunch al fresco (poached salmon salad with a new bottle of rosé), when an insidious vine curls itself around his ankle, and he finds himself flat on his back, dirt filling his lungs and Neville's laughter in his ears.

"Now, Draco, I've told you there's no reason to be jealous of my plants. I promise they won't ever replace you in my bed."

Draco mumbles something about vines and tentacles and how he still hasn't forgiven Neville for the thing with the Giant Squid. But Neville's quiet ways have taught him to listen, and there are few noises Draco can make that Neville won't decipher. So it is no surprise to find a Gryffindor on top of him, grinning from ear to ear, Neville's solid body pinning him to the ground in a distracting way.

Draco continues to scowl, and Neville leans close to nuzzle his cheek.

"It's not the tentacles either, I promise. Or that nice-smelling dirt on the southern lawn, or Ginny's knitted sweaters. Only you."

Mentioning the girl Weasley and her wicked needles is wholly inappropriate and unnecessary, and Draco would tell him so if his lips weren't currently occupied. Neville doesn't hesitate as he licks his way into Draco's mouth, sliding his tongue along Draco's lower lip, and sucking it into his mouth with a greedy moan. Neville's hands are framing Draco's face, his thumbs stroking the delicate skin below his ears, warm and rough and spreading small electric shocks along Draco's body. Draco opens his mouth and lets him, desperate as ever and not caring because this is Neville, and Draco has no defences against such Gryffindor seductions. He bucks his hips and is rewarded with Neville's body sliding between his thighs, moving on top of him and catching at all the right places until Draco can only rut mindlessly against him.

Afterwards, when they lie warm and lazy in the April sun, clothes half-torn with smudges of dirt all over them, Draco trails one finger along Neville's belly. It likes the rough texture of the skin there, covered with soft hair, the muscles invisible but evident under his hand. Neville breathes laughter against Draco's hair and presses a soft kiss to his ear.

"Your tentacles I don't mind, you know."

And if Draco weren't wallowing in post-orgasmic languor, he'd take exception to that and show Neville the difference between inquisitive fingers and impertinent tentacles.

Perhaps after lunch. He still remembers how to transfigure a pincushion into a baby squid, after all.


End file.
